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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26535229">God Help Me, Part 10b</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinGayle/pseuds/ErinGayle'>ErinGayle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>God Help Me [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Jojo Rabbit (2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Drug Use, F/M, Heterosexuality, Homosexuality, M/M, Smoking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:14:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,547</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26535229</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinGayle/pseuds/ErinGayle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
      <p>I broke this one into two sections for file management.</p>
    </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Freddy Finkel/Captain Klenzendorf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>God Help Me [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819291</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Wednesday, March 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I broke this one into two sections for file management.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Karl moped at his desk.  He had barely been able to get out of bed this morning.  Taking Pervitin would just send him on a sleepless tear until he drank or drugged himself to sleep.  His head hurt all day, and his eyes had spontaneously filled with tears.  He looked up at Freddie walking in from his afternoon foray for bread.  Freddie gave Karl a barely perceptible shake of his head.  Karl slowly collapsed onto the desk, his hands over his head.  He heard Gerti pull a piece of paper from the typewriter, and it was like she was pulling out the least accessible nerve in his skull. </p><p>Turning his head, Karl saw his silver phone.  One thing would make him feel better.  He picked up the receiver and dialed a number.  “Yes, this is Captain Klenzendorf.  Tell Deertz to get his skinny ass to the phone.”</p><p>Freddie looked around the wall, shocked to hear that language come out of Karl’s mouth with Magda in the office.  He looked over at Magda, who’s eyes had slightly slid over toward Karl.  She was pretending to sort whatever stack of envelopes she had.</p><p>“Deertz, you’ve made your fucking point.  Cut her down by six am tomorrow, or I’ll do it myself….Do you really want to test me?  Get your men out there and cut. her. down!  And, don’t throw her in some pit either!  You get your fucking pet Nazi priest, and you bury her properly in a marked grave….DON’T TRY TO GO TOE TO TOE WITH ME, DEERTZ!  I’VE GONE UP AGAINST BETTER MEN WITH BIGGER BALLS THAN YOU AND WON!  BURY MY GIRLFRIEND BY DAWN, OR I WILL!”  Karl slammed down the phone.  He felt marginally better, but now his throat hurt. </p><p>Gerti could only stare at Karl.  He rarely used curse words or yelled.  She could only imagine what would happen tomorrow morning when Rosie Betzler was still hanging on the gallows.  She knew that Herman Deertz never gave in to threats because no one ever threatened him.  Karl resolutely walked through the office now.  His bad eye burned knowing that vengeance was impossible.  He walked taller and with more purpose than she had ever seen him.  The only time she’d ever seen him move fast was when Jojo Betzler blew himself up.  She’d been surprised how fast a man as old as Captain K could run with a child in his arms. </p><p>Karl stopped in front of Magda.  “Magda, I’m sorry you heard that language.  But, sometimes you have to put the fear of God into people.”</p><p>Magda nodded.  “It’s ok.” </p><p>Freddie stood up and reached for his hat.  “Sir, where are you going?”</p><p>“To get a rifle, some ammo, and my knife.  Gerti, the <em>kugelwagen</em> keys, please.”</p><p>Gerti didn’t know who Karl was talking to, until she remembered her name was Gerti.  He’d never called her that.  She handed over the keys and watched Karl go upstairs.  Freddie followed Karl, stopping between the two desks.  “Gerti, you and Magda should go home.”</p><p>“What’s he going to do?” Gerti asked in a fearful whisper.</p><p>Freddie shook his head.  “I don’t know.  But, used to be when he was in this kind of mood, colonels cleared out of his way.”</p><p>Gerti eyes grew larger.  “Magda, let’s go.”</p><p>Freddie continued upstairs where he found Karl getting ready for the field.  He closed the door to the apartment so Gerti and Magda couldn’t hear.  “Karl?”</p><p>Karl shook his head as he strapped on his field vest.  “You don’t want to get involved in this, Freddie.”</p><p>“Involved in what exactly?”</p><p>“I’m not letting her rot and be pecked apart by the crows.”  Karl clipped a bayonet on his utility belt and strapped his trench knife in his boot.  “I couldn’t save her, but I can make sure she isn’t desecrated any more than they already have.”</p><p>Freddie sighed.  “Would she have wanted you to take this kind of risk?  To threaten the Gestapo?”</p><p>Karl paused in his preparations.  “Someone has to.”  He finished packing under Freddie’s worried eyes.  Shouldering his favorite rifle, he stood in front of Freddie.  “If I….Just try to carry on here best you can.  If you clean out my stuff, there are enough drugs around to doom my barely respectable reputation with the <em>feldjägerkorps</em>.”</p><p>Freddie put his hands on Karl’s arms.  “Karl, please,” he barely whispered.  He wanted to beg Karl to stay home.  Rosie was dead.  The body on the gallows was just a body.  It wasn’t worth whatever trouble it would bring.  “What about Jojo and Inge?”</p><p>Smiling and shaking his head, Karl pulled Freddie’s head to his shoulder, and Freddie threw his arms around Karl.  “You’ll look after them for me.”  He tousled Freddie’s hair and gave him a brief kiss on the cheek, before pushing Freddie away and leaving.</p><p> </p><p>Karl drove to the <em>friedhof<a href="#_ftn1" id="_ftnref1" name="_ftnref1"><strong>[1]</strong></a> </em>in the afternoon sun.  He banged on the groundskeeper’s cottage door, and the grubby man jerked the door open.  “Yeah?  What?”</p><p>Karl took out a fifty mark bill.  “I need you to dig a grave.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>Karl stared at the man, and he quailed under the burning glare of Karl’s bad eye. </p><p>“Yes, sir.  I have a map.”  The groundskeeper pulled out a worn map pasted to a board. </p><p>“Where are the Betzlers buried?”</p><p>He showed Karl a full family plot.  “Here, but there’s no more space there.”</p><p>“Put it somewhere easy to find and pretty.”</p><p>“Yes, sir.  When should I expect the occupant?”</p><p>“Soon.”  Karl walked back to the <em>kugelwagen</em> and drove back to town, while the groundskeeper waited to be sure Karl wasn’t committing suicide. </p><p> </p><p>Herman Deertz fumed in his office.  He stared out the windows trying to determine if Karl was really going to challenge him.  He had the sense that Karl would.  Karl was slightly beyond Deertz’s reach and therefore not securely under his thumb.  He’d never been able to bully Karl.  Rosie was saucily insubordinate, but she had known there was nothing between keeping or losing her job except Deertz’s recommendation.  Karl had nothing Deertz could hold over him.  Deertz tried to investigate Karl but hit dead ends and uncooperative leads.  No one in the Army who deigned to speak to Deertz would say a bad thing about Karl, and nearly everyone mused on Karl’s aristocratic manners and his genuine care for the average German soldier.  He was every man’s friend but pitied as he had no home and no family and lost his promising career to one well thrown Soviet grenade. </p><p>Deertz always wondered about how quickly Karl and Rosie fell in with one another and how she obviously forgave him the hand grenade incident.  Even if they were childhood sweethearts reunited, forgiving the hand grenade seemed just too much.  As far as Deertz knew and reliable informants reported, Karl and Rosie had publicly been perfectly proper as a single officer and the wife of a missing officer.  Obviously friends, perhaps unusually close friends, they had gone to great lengths to shield her children from their affair.  Rosie had been a respected woman in the town, and even those who informed had not been known to gossip about her and Karl.  Deertz suspected that quite a few people remembered Paul’s resigned dignity when he was conscripted into a war by a government he had opposed, and they didn’t gossip about the man’s wife out of respect for him and pity for her.  Deertz considered the Betzlers’ politics treasonous and Rosie’s snappy determination a cancer. </p><p>Her hanging, however, was quite possibly a mistake.  He should have pressed for the judge to sentence her to jail as the prosecutor had repeatedly asked.  The cells were damp and cold enough and the food paltry enough she would have caught pneumonia and died by summer.  Maybe leaving her alive would have given him something to use against Karl.  But, she had confessed and not even tried to beg for her life or wheedle a few extra days.  Either way, Rosie Betzler was always going to be problematic. </p><p>“Herr Müller,” Deertz finally said.  “Call Father Bernard and the undertaker.  We need a coffin.”</p><p> </p><p>Karl parked the kugelwagen just slightly away from the corner where the small side street intersected Hohenzollernplatz.  He could see the gallows, but he was in a shadow.  He loaded his rifle and got out.  Hopping up on the warm hood, he leaned back against the windshield, lit a cigarette, and waited.  People were walking back and forth, averting their eyes from the gallows. Karl hated looking at it, too.  The sun set, the church bells rang the hours, and Karl watched.  Near eleven the <em>polizei</em> patrol walked by.</p><p>“A<em>bend</em>, Captain,” one of them greeted him.  “You know, it’s almost curfew time.”  He noticed that Karl had the rifle, a knife in his boot, and his pistol as well as additional ammunition.</p><p>Karl inhaled from his cigarette.  “You do not want to fuck with me tonight, gentlemen.”</p><p>Both young policemen, veterans retired due to protracted illness, looked at what Karl was intently observing.  They’d each seen him leaving Frau Betzlers' early in the mornings.  “I am officially warning you, sir.  But, I’m also going to be on my way,” the more senior policeman said.</p><p>Karl nodded.  He kept up his vigil and around three began to plan how to cut down Rosie’s body. He decided to drive the car under her body, stand on the hood, and use his knife to cut the rope.  At four a large truck followed by a low black car slowly drove up to the gallows.  Deertz unfolded from the car, his height unmistakable in the moonlight.  Four SS troops hopped out of the covered back of the truck.  They took out a ladder and a pine coffin.  One man set up the ladder and held it, while another climbed up it.  The remaining two stood ready to catch Rosie’s corpse.  The body was cut down, and the two who caught it, laid it carefully in the coffin.  The coffin was loaded along with the ladder and the troops.  The truck pulled away followed by the car and soon the <em>kugelwagen</em>.  Deertz looked in the wing mirror and angrily frowned when he saw the wagon.  He’d had a report that Captain Klenzendorf was loitering.  He was definitely going to take it out of some <em>polizei’s</em> hide in the morning that they didn’t arrest him for violating curfew. </p><p> </p><p>The groundskeeper nearly fell out of bed at the sound of more banging on his door.  He opened the door to see a stout man in a black hat and coat.  “You need to dig a grave,” the piggy eyed Müller said.</p><p>“I just finished one,” the groundskeeper responded in amazement.  “Just this evening.”</p><p>“And who told you to dig it?”</p><p>Karl was out of the wagon, smoking, looking off into the distance.  The groundskeeper judged that ratting out Karl was the worst of the bad options.  “No one, sir.  Just good practice to have one available.”</p><p>Müller nodded.  It seemed reasonable.  “Show us up there.”</p><p>At the grave, Deertz and Father Bernard got out of the car.  Karl put on his hat and joined them.  He said nothing but observed every action of the four privates.  It was obvious they’d never buried a coffin before.  He grumpily sighed as the soldiers tried to figure out how to lower the coffin.  The groundskeeper inserted himself and taught them the way to tie the ropes.</p><p>“Wait,” Karl interrupted as they were about to lift the coffin.  He took a wax pencil from his pocket and walked over to the box.  He knew it was only Rosie’s body, not really her, but writing her name on the unvarnished lid broke his heart.  Holding back tears, he wrote in old fashioned Kurrent with its aggressively pointed letters:</p><p><em>Grafine Adelheid Brynhild Walpurga von Bischoffen-Betzler, unsere Rosie</em>. </p><p>“What are you writing?” Deertz asked impatiently. </p><p>“Her name,” Karl snapped harshly.</p><p>Deertz rolled his eyes.  He didn’t care.  He just wanted the box in the ground.  “Get on with it.” Deertz snapped his fingers at the four SS soldiers.  They were all privates, and even though Karl wasn’t SS, he was an officer.  The only reason he could have such an interest in this one criminal was if she was his family or lover.  Once Karl was finished, he stepped away from the coffin and nodded to the soldiers.  They carefully lifted the pine box and eased it down into the grave. </p><p>Father Bernard cleared his throat.  “Let us pray.”</p><p>“Quickly, Father.”  Deertz wanted this over with.  He felt Karl staring at him.  “What?”</p><p>“Show some respect for the dead, Deertz.  She was German.” Karl snarled.  He was under arms and outside, thus he could not remove his hat.</p><p>Deertz and his colleague grudgingly took off their hats.  The soldiers caught Karl glaring at them as well and stood to attention.  Father Bernard read through the order of committal as quickly as he could leaving little room for responses.  At the appropriate time, he sprinkled holy water into the grave.  Deertz watched Karl cross himself at every <em>Amen</em>.  When Father Bernard concluded, Deertz jammed his hat back on his head and began to leave.</p><p>“Don’t you dare dig her up,” Karl said to Deertz’s retreating back.</p><p>Deertz barely paused as a furious shudder went through him.  “Perhaps you should have the caretaker dig a grave for you right beside her.  The way you’re going, you’ll be needing it.”</p><p>Father Bernard knew that ecclesiastically, he was supposed to offer care and comfort to the bereaved, no matter whether they deserved it or not.  He glanced at Karl, and his brief look was only returned by Karl’s fiery, blind eye.</p><p>“For a Nazi priest, you sure are afraid of them.”</p><p>Father Bernard hurried away not wanting to be left in the cemetery with either the dead or Karl.  Karl stood by the open grave until the groundskeeper approached him.  “Sir, I should fill the grave.”</p><p>Karl nodded his head.  He walked back to the <em>kugelwagen</em>, left his <em>feldbluse</em>, greatcoat, and hat and came back with a shovel.  He’d helped to bury plenty of people over the years.  When they were finished, Karl leaned on his shovel.  “If they come back for her, and you don’t tell me, I’ll blow your damn brains out.  Deertz will threaten to arrest and hang you.  I’ll just shoot you right here.”  He put his shovel over his shoulder and left.</p><p> </p><p><a href="#_ftnref1" id="_ftn1" name="_ftn1">[1]</a> Cemetery</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Thursday, March 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Karl walked tiredly into the apartment, Freddie was at the table anxiously waiting.  “Oh, thank God!” Freddie exclaimed as he collapsed onto the table.  He sat up to a dirty Karl. </p><p>Karl stood next to Freddie and looked down at his worried face.  He put his arm around Freddie’s shoulders and leaned him against his hip.  “It’s ok, Freddie.  I’m back.”</p><p>Freddie audibly exhaled.  “I’ll go fix breakfast,” he said trying to make the day start off normally.  He got up and walked over to the stove where he picked up the frying pan</p><p>“OK.  But, I have to shower and run out to confession.”  Karl knew that Father Nicolas always did first confession, noon confession, and last confession at Compline. </p><p>Freddie dropped the pan, shocked that Karl was voluntarily going to church and terrified what he had to confess.  “Why?” was caught in a fearful sob deep in his throat.</p><p>“Don’t worry.  Deertz is still alive.  Give me an hour.”</p><p>Freddie felt cold chills on his back.  Karl simply wasn’t safe outside the <em>Jugend</em> building.</p><p> </p><p>Rushing through the grim spring morning, Karl thought it might rain later that day.  It was still chilly enough that he was glad he wore his greatcoat.  He walked determinedly into the church, barely dipped a finger in the holy water, and crossed himself walking to the confessional.  He closed the glass door and pulled the curtain.  “Bless me Father, for I have sinned.”</p><p>Father Nicolas nodded behind the screen.  “Go on.”</p><p>“Lust, Envy, Pride, Bearing False Witness,” Karl began listing.  He wasn’t really there for confession.  It was a convenient cover.  “I also took the Lord’s name in vain, a lot, and cursed in front of Magda Forster.”</p><p>“Herr Forster served in the Navy in the last war then was an engineer on the trains before he was called back to the Navy.  That girl can out curse most men your age.”</p><p>“I need you to do something, Father.”</p><p>“Me?  What?”</p><p>“I need you to say a memorial mass for Rosie.”</p><p>Father Nicolas paused.  That was illegal or at least taboo.  “I could go to Dachau for that.”</p><p>“None of us deserve God’s grace, but don’t we all deserve to be remembered?  She held that damn school together.  Tell me one terrible thing she ever did?  Tell me all the times she did something kind and loving for a student or one of the families?”  Karl sat back in the confessional.  “I’ve known Rosie since we were ten.  She’s the one woman I’ve ever truly and without hesitation loved.  I forced Deertz to bury her decently.  I need you to give her the memorial mass she deserves, though I can’t be there.”</p><p>Father Nicolas fingered his crucifix.  “Three o’clock mass today will be a memorial mass.  Now, as for you:  <em>Deinde, ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.</em>”</p><p>“Amen.”  Karl hesitated to ask.  “No penance?”</p><p>“I have a feeling you’ve done yours.”</p><p> </p><p>With the school closed, more children were in and out of the office.  Karl and Freddie were running out of things for them to do that didn’t involve training them in the use of weapons.  Karl absolutely refused to teach them anything more than he already had.  At midday, many went home to whatever paltry lunch their mothers or grandmothers had managed to scrounge up.  Karl hoped that when the Americans arrived, the town would surrender and be rewarded with bread.  He and Freddie were doing their best to have something on hand for the kids, but supplies were getting tight, and the fields were just starting to sprout the spring crop.  It was a cruel time of year. </p><p>Karl heard the church bells ring three o’clock, then keep ringing.  He dropped down in his chair and held his hands over his eyes.  He didn’t want to break down crying or for the children to see him if he did.  He took a deep breath and looked up.  The Oriental carpet was again a grand Napoleonic battlefield.  Freddie had thought it stupid to buy nearly every tin soldier left in Berlin.  The children had loved them.  Karl didn’t realize he smiled as he watched two girls and a boy speak knowledgably about their tactics.</p><p>Trying not to think about the order of mass for a memorial, Karl busied himself filling out and signing useless paperwork.  No one was ever going to read the bureaucratic minutiae he was attending to, but it gave everyone something to do.  The Americans were pushing through the Pfalz and taking their sweet time getting into Hesse and Württemberg.  Amazingly parts of the Siegfried Line were still holding.  The Russians were getting a good fight in Hungary, but it was a lost German cause. </p><p>When Deertz heard the church bells toll for a funeral, he reached for his copy of the parish daily schedule duly delivered by Father Bernard every week and updated every morning.  At three o’clock there was a regular mass, no funeral.  Captain Klenzendorf had already twice humiliated him publicly over Rosie Betzler.  There wasn’t going to be a third time.  “Herr Junker!” Deertz yelled as he stood up and went for his hat and coat.  “Herr Müller!  Herr Frosch!  We have an issue to deal with.”  Herr Klump was at home with a nasty cold.</p><p>The church wasn’t that far away, but they took the car anyway.  Herr Deertz led the way into the church.  Father Nicolas was about to recite the <em>Dies Irae</em> when he was loudly interrupted.</p><p>“This is an illegal gathering!  And it will cease at once!”  Deertz looked around at the dozen or so people in the pews.  To a man and woman, they all caved inward, hoping to avoid Deertz’s gaze. </p><p>However, Father Nicolas kept on, and he began to preach in German.  “<em>Day of wrath, day that will dissolve the world into burning coals, as David bore witness with the Sibyl.  How great a tremor is to be, when the judge is to come briskly shattering every grave</em>.”</p><p>“Father Nicolas, I am ordering you to cease this Mass!”  Deertz shouted as loudly as he could.  The altar servers stood as still and stunned as rabbits.</p><p>Father Nicolas preached as loudly and clearly as he could.  “<em>A trumpet sounding an astonishing sound through the tombs of the region drives all before the throne.  Death will be stunned and so will Nature, when arises the man responding to the One judging.  The written book will be brought forth, in which the whole record of evidence is contained whence the world is to be judged.</em>”</p><p>Deertz could feel his pulse on his forehead.  “ARREST THAT PRIEST!”</p><p>Father Bernard heard the yelling in the nave from the sacristy.  He rushed into the main body of the church to find Herr Müller and Herr Frosch wrestling Father Nicolas to the ground.  “Captain Deertz!  What’s going on here?”</p><p>Father Nicolas continued to recite.  “<em>Therefore, when the Judge shall sit, whatever lay hidden will appear; nothing unavenged will remain.  O Thou, God of Majesty, nourishing brilliance of the Trinity, join us with the Blessed.  What am I the wretch then to say? what patron I to beseech? when scarcely the just be secure. King of tremendous Majesty, who saves those-to-be-saved free, save me, Fount of piety</em>.”</p><p>Deertz’s eyes were nearly wild.  “SHUT HIM UP!”</p><p>Father Bernard looked on with horror as Herr Müller hit Father Nicolas in the face with a weighted slapper.  “Captain Deertz!  Please this is a church!  Please!  I…I’ll make sure Father Nicolas never preaches or hears confession again.  He’ll stay in the rectory and never see parishioners again!  Please, Captain Deertz!”</p><p>Father Nicolas’ head hung, and his jaw was crooked.  “I’d rather die in Dachau than be your chained up pet,” he awkwardly spat at Father Bernard.  “<em>After the accursed have been silenced, given up to the bitter flames, call me with the blest.  Kneeling and bowed down I pray, My heart contrite as ashes:  Do Thou care for my end.<a href="#_ftn1" id="_ftnref1" name="_ftnref1"><strong>[1]</strong></a></em>”</p><p>Deertz couldn’t afford another public error, which is exactly what beating, arresting, and hanging a priest would be.  “Müller, take this priest and Father Bernard to the hospital then make sure he never sets foot outside the rectory again.  The rest of you, get everyone’s name.”  Deertz turned in a snap of his coat and stormed out of the church.  His car peeled off of Hohenzollernplatz to the <em>Jugend</em> building.</p><p> </p><p>The windows were open in the <em>Jugend</em> building, and the entire office heard the car screech to a halt on the cobbles.  Freddie looked out the window in time to see a young boy shoved to the ground to make way for Deertz.  “It’s Deertz!”</p><p>Karl immediately jumped up and unsnapped his pistol holster on his hip.  “Fraulein Rahm, take the children in the other room.”  He came from behind his desk to meet Deertz in a larger space.</p><p>However, Fraulein Rahm ran smack into Deertz in the doorway, and he shoved her out of his way. His long legs had taken the stairs three at a time.  Deertz’s eyes were wide and wild, and his hat had abandoned his head allowing his wispy blonde hair to fly about.  He kicked the toy soldiers in front of him as well as crushed them beneath his unusually long feet.  “YOU!  YOU HAD THAT TRAITOROUS PRIEST SAY A MEMORIAL MASS FOR ROSIE BETZLER!”</p><p>Karl was nowhere near as tall as Deertz.  He stood as tall as he could.  “If only I’d known, I could have attended.”</p><p>“YOU ARE A TRAITOR TO THE REICH!  YOU WERE JUST AS INVOLVED IN WHATEVER SHE WAS UP TO AS SHE WAS!  I KNOW IT!”</p><p>“DON’T YOU DARE WALK IN HERE CALLING ME A TRAITOR IN FRONT OF MY KIDS, YOU GIRAFFE NECKED COWARD!  IF DUELING WERE STILL LEGAL<a href="#_ftn2" id="_ftnref2" name="_ftnref2">[2]</a>, I WOULD CHALLENGE YOU HERE AND NOW, AND, TALL AS YOU ARE, I’D STILL WIN!  YOU COULDN’T PULL THE TRIGGER ON ME WHEN I HELD THE DAMN PISTOL FOR YOU!  I DOUBT YOU COULD ACTUALLY STAB ME!  YOU MIGHT GET SOME REAL BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS!”</p><p>Deertz glared down at Karl, who glared back in his steely manner.  “Is that all you have?  Your silly little fraternity sword fights?  You are going to meet a very nasty end, Captain Klenzendorf,” Deertz hissed.  “Believe me, I will see to it.”</p><p>“<em>Dumkopf Junge</em><a href="#_ftn3" id="_ftnref3" name="_ftnref3">[3]</a>,” Karl said softly with a smile.  He had learned from Rosie that the only way to defeat a bully was to never back down and fight dirty if necessary. </p><p>Deertz’s teeth ground and his nose wrinkled in fury, but he didn’t accept the challenge. </p><p>Karl smirked and poked his finger into Deertz’s chest.  “Don’t you <em>ever</em> walk in here again if you want to walk out.”</p><p>Deertz knew Karl had the advantage of being in his own building as well as being armed, and Sergeant Freddie Finkle wasn’t going to let a Gestapo agent take an army officer without a fight.  Herman had never seen Freddie in a bad mood, but when Deertz glanced at the young man now, he saw a hardened soldier ready for combat with whatever he had at hand even if it was only a stapler and a letter opener.  Deertz had seen men beaten to death with desk items.  He sneered at Karl and whirled around, flying out of the office, his coat flapping behind him.</p><p>Karl walked to the window and looked down into the street to be sure Deertz zoomed away in his black car.  That was when Karl heard soft crying.  He looked around and found Anna crying as she sat on the carpet.  “Anna?  Anna, why are you crying?” he asked as he crouched down to her.  “Did he hurt you?”</p><p>Anna shook her head.  “He stepped on Herr Rose.”  She held up a tin soldier snapped from his base.  “He’s the only one with a pink coat and purple breeches.”</p><p>Karl took the two small pieces of lead.  “I’ll try to fix him.” </p><p>Anna hugged Karl and wiped her teary eyes on his <em>feldbluse</em>.  Karl sighed as he held the girl for a moment.  Deertz was a malevolent force wreaking havoc just because he could.</p><p>As Freddie helped the children find the tin soldiers Deertz had kicked about the room, he looked over at Karl hugging Anna.  Freddie knew that Karl would have had children if he had ever married, a lot of them if he’d married the right woman.  He was frequently exasperated by the kids, but in the end, he was always kind and gentle with their feelings.  His affection had been stiff and coldly uncertain in the summer.  Now it was natural and soft. </p><p> </p><p><a href="#_ftnref1" id="_ftn1" name="_ftn1">[1]</a> <em>Dies Irae</em> translated by the Francisan Archive.  <a href="https://www.franciscanarchive.org/de_celano/opera/diesirae.html">https://www.franciscanarchive.org/de_celano/opera/diesirae.html</a></p><p><a href="#_ftnref2" id="_ftn2" name="_ftn2">[2]</a> The student fencing societies were dissolved by the Nazi Party between 1934-1938.</p><p><a href="#_ftnref3" id="_ftn3" name="_ftn3">[3]</a> <em>Dumkopf Junge</em> was a non-violent/pro-forma challenge to a mensur fencing duel in the 1800s before more formalized matched bouts were instituted. </p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Friday, March 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fingering the key to the Betzler house that he had honestly forgotten to return, Karl thought about Jojo and the girl.  She couldn’t really leave the house, and Jojo was ten.  He couldn’t send them away on his own.  He didn’t have that legal authority, and there was no adult to send them to. </p><p>The Americans were taking their damn time getting across the upper Rhine.  Karl was perversely proud that his fellow Germans were putting up a decent defense, but surely the General Staff saw that the war was over.  They still had the heartland of Germany.  Now was the time to beg for a surrender that at least allowed the men to return home.  Karl feared the French dream of a permanently impoverished, agrarian Germany would come true this time with added weight from the British and Russians.  He’d heard the people of Iceland lived in caves and huts dug into the ground.  Karl imagined that was what the French had in mind for the Germans, and he couldn’t really blame them.  They’d strip Germany down to the teaspoons if they could.</p><p>But, Karl’s immediate concern was Jojo and Elsa.  Karl looked out into the office at Freddie “dancing” with the headphones on.  He sighed realizing he was going to have to pull Freddie into this.  Freddie and Tekla were supposed to go out that evening as usual.  Freddie could go by the house, drop off some food, and check on the kids.  Karl was concerned that Deertz would use any excuse to get back into the Betzlers’. </p><p>As Freddie cooked their dinner, he could tell Karl was not just pre-occupied but nervous.  Freddie brought the plates to the table.  They had barely any meat anymore, the game was thin, and they were lucky to find bread without a two or three hour hunt.  Freddie had taken to going to the hospital for food supplies.  He saw more and more people pulling wagons with household items like lamps and rugs around town to barter for food with the farmers who still came in with crops. </p><p>“You ok, Karl?”</p><p>Karl had half-heartedly picked up his fork and poked at the potatoes and eggs.  “I have to ask you to do something for me, and I really don’t want to.”</p><p>Freddie set down his fork.  “You know I’ll do almost anything for you.”</p><p>“I want you to go over to the Betzlers’ tonight, take the kids some food I stashed away for them, and just check on them.”</p><p>“Ok.”</p><p>“I have a key to the backdoor.  Go down the side street just past the house and around into the alley.  There’s a squeaky gate into the yard.”</p><p>Freddie nodded.  “Sure.  Early or late?”</p><p>Karl shrugged.  “I don’t know.  When you can.  Tell the children they should probably search Rosie’s room.  Deertz and his minions never went through it properly.  Tell them if they find anything concerning to call us.  One of us will come over and take care of it.”</p><p>“Are you sure they should call?  You know Deertz is listening in.”</p><p>“I don’t want either of them near me right now.  Maybe when this is all over….  Just make it sound innocent.  They could call and ask about Jojo’s attendance certificate or something ridiculous like that.”</p><p>Freddie knew Karl had suffered through perhaps the worst week of his life.  He got up from his chair and bent over Karl, hugging him around the shoulders.  “It’s going to be ok, Karl.”</p><p>Karl nodded, but he felt the tears coming up.  “I never knew how much I would miss her,” he said, his voice breaking.  “I hadn’t seen her in eleven years.”</p><p>Freddie thought that Karl might not have seen Rosie in eleven years, but he saw her picture every day.  She’d been with him the whole time.  “Where’s the key to the Betzlers’?”</p><p> </p><p>There were no lights on in the house when Freddie used the key to open the backdoor.  He carefully stepped inside, trying to remember if the kitchen was the back room or not.  He didn’t think it was.  He remembered Jojo’s room being the one to the rear.  Dragging his hand on the wall, he found the open door to the kitchen.  He bumped into the small dresser to the left, rattling everything in it.  “<em>Gottverdammt</em>!” he hissed to himself.  Walking forward, he nearly fell over the kitchen table and chairs.  The lights suddenly flashed on, and Freddie was momentarily blinded.</p><p>“Herr Finkle!  What are you doing here?” Jojo asked.  He and Elsa had crept down the stairs when they heard the backdoor open.  Jojo passed Freddie, who had managed to untangle himself from the chair he knocked over. </p><p>“Hey, Jojo.  Um, Captain K asked me to come over here after my date tonight.  He sent you some potatoes and parsnips.  Where’s Inge?”  Freddie was trying to smile and act natural.  Then he felt a knife in his back and one at his throat.</p><p>“Right here,” Elsa whispered in his ear.</p><p>Freddie stared at Jojo in panic, and the boy only shrugged.  “Wow.  You sure are quiet, Fraulein Betzler.”</p><p>“What do you really want, Herr Finkle?” Elsa whispered with menace.</p><p>“Dropping off the food and just checking on you.”  Freddie assumed that anything even close to a lie would get his throat stabbed.  “I’m really not a threat, Inge.”</p><p>“I’ll be the judge of that, Herr Finkle.”  As far as Elsa was concerned, everyone but Jojo was a threat. </p><p>“Inge,” Jojo said quietly.  “I think he’s ok.  He doesn’t even have a pistol with him.”</p><p>Elsa reluctantly pulled her knives away. </p><p>“Thank you, Inge.”  Freddie took a deep breath.  Freddie decided he needed to stay right where he was, lest Elsa take a dim view of some minor movement and stab him.  He saw how close to Elsa Jojo had moved.  “How’re you  doing?”</p><p>“How do you expect a kid whose mother was murdered for no good reason to be?” Elsa snapped as she put an arm around Jojo.</p><p>Freddie sighed.  “Inge, has the Gestapo been back?”</p><p>Elsa rolled her eyes.  “No.  Jojo’s book has them convinced we’re two perfect Nazis.”</p><p>“I thought it was your book,” Freddie commented innocently.</p><p>“She just did the drawings for me,” Jojo said quietly.  He knew the book was stupid now, but it had saved them from Deertz’s suspicions.</p><p>Freddie saw the contempt oozing out of Elsa’s eyes.  “They didn’t search your mother’s room or your room really well.  You need to do that.  If you find anything, call us.  Captain K can’t come over because he threatened Deertz, and Deertz is watching everything he does now.  But, I can.”</p><p>“As if I’m going to call you and tell you I found the secret lair of the Resistance in the attic?” Elsa scoffed angrily.  “Sure.”</p><p>“No.  Just say something like Jojo needs his <em>Jugend</em> attendance certificate for school.  I’ll have an excuse to come over.”</p><p>Elsa barely believed Freddie, but she was curious.  “Why did the Captain threaten the Gestapo?”</p><p>Freddie sighed.  There was no way he was going to tell two kids their mother was having an affair.  “I think maybe your mother and Captain K might have known each other when they were younger.  He cared about her very much.  He was very upset when she was arrested and….”</p><p>“There was always extra food,” Jojo whispered.  It hadn’t just been the two rabbits or venison.  It was the eggs and vegetables.  They’d always had eggs.</p><p>Freddie nodded.  “He wanted to take care of her and you two, but quietly so that people wouldn’t talk too much.  He was going to stay here after the war to help Rosie figure out just where your papa is and get him home.”</p><p>Jojo looked up at Freddie worriedly.  “Where…what did…where’s my mama?”</p><p>Freddie put his arm around Jojo.  “Captain K made Deertz do right by her.  She’s…there’s a proper grave with a coffin, and there was a priest.”  Jojo’s teary eyes made Freddie want to cry as well.  He just hugged the boy.  “I need to get home before the curfew.  If you two need anything, call us.  I’ll try to come back in a few days.”  Freddie started for the backdoor.</p><p>“Herr Finkle, the key,” Elsa said suddenly.</p><p>Freddie had his hand on the knob.  “Inge, your mother gave this key to Captain K for a reason.  I think this is it.”</p><p>Elsa wanted to forcibly take the key.  She felt Jojo’s hand in hers.  “Don’t think you can just come and go.”</p><p>“I won’t.  I’ll knock on the glass first next time.  Is that ok?”</p><p>Elsa nodded, and Freddie smiled at her.  “Be careful, Herr Finkle.”</p><p> </p><p>When he arrived home, Freddie saw the office doors open.  Looking in, Karl was sitting in his office.  “Sir?”  Freddie had no idea if there was anyone else there.</p><p>Karl looked up from his desk.  He had out the map on which he was tracking movement reports from the BBC, the German papers, and command and staff meetings on separate overlays.  He updated it every day now.  It was a map that would get him hanged if anyone saw it.  Somehow, he had lost his colored pencils and was waiting for the colored ink to dry.  “Yes, Freddie?”</p><p>“I’m back.  Just wanted you to know.”</p><p>Karl nodded.  “I’ll be upstairs in a few minutes.”  Karl blew on the ink to hurry it along.  Once it was dry, he rolled the map into a tube and settled it under a loose floorboard under his desk.  He turned out the lights and ran up the stairs to the apartment.  Freddie was stretched out on his bed drinking a beer. </p><p>“Inge is definitely Rosie’s kid,” Freddie said.</p><p>Karl knew the girl definitely wasn’t.  He took off his <em>feldbluse</em> and hung it up in the wardrobe.  “Yeah?” </p><p>“She snuck up behind me once I was in the house and put a knife to my back and another to my throat.”</p><p>Karl couldn’t help but smile as he took off his shirt.  “That might mean she’s Herr Betzler’s kid.” </p><p>“Well, I’m not too worried about them.  I’m just lucky she doesn’t have a pistol.  That girl is ready to kill every Nazi she encounters.  If Deertz knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay away from her.”</p><p>Karl glanced in the mirror at Freddie’s reflection.  “Just so you know, Paul Betzler has a scoped G98, a .22, and a shotgun.  I cleaned them over the winter and put them in the back of Rosie’s wardrobe.”</p><p>Freddie stared at Karl.  “Holy shit.  Do you think the kids know how to use them?”</p><p>Karl shook his head.  “But, I think they might know how to misuse them.”</p><p>“Shit.”</p><p>Karl sat down on Freddie’s bed.  “Look on the bright side,” he said softly smacking Freddie’s thigh.  “They probably haven’t found the ammo I left over there.”  Karl tried to smile and was only mildly successful.</p><p>Freddie rolled his eyes.  The next time Karl sent him over, Freddie decided he was going to confiscate that ammo.  He caught Karl’s hand in his.  He held Karl’s fingers, feeling them and the bones beneath.  Karl’s hands felt thinner than they should. “Are you ok?”</p><p>Karl shook his head and laid down on his side next to Freddie.  Freddie scooted over a bit to give him more room.  “I’m so angry,” he said.  “I’m angry with her for doing something so stupidly brave.  I’m angry with myself for not stopping her or not stopping the Gestapo.  I’m angry with…well, everyone else in Germany from Deertz on up.  I’m angry I didn’t do more to get her out.  I knew she was up to something.  I just didn’t know what, and instead of being a man and telling her exactly what she was going to do, I just let Rosie be Rosie.”</p><p>“I’d like to have seen you tell her what to do.”  Freddie sipped more of his beer.  “She would have put you on your ass again.”</p><p>Karl almost laughed.  He put his head on Freddie’s chest and his arm across Freddie’s waist.  Freddie’s arm curled around Karl, and his fingers absently ran in Karl’s hair.  “So how was your date with Tekla?” Karl eventually asked.</p><p>“That girl.  I don’t know where she learned about sex, but she gave me a hell of a blow job.”</p><p>“Really?”  Karl was amazed.  Most women who weren’t prostitutes wouldn’t do that. </p><p>Freddie looked down at Karl.  “I mean, she’s not the best, but she’s good.”  He bent down and kissed Karl.</p><p>“Maybe you should consider marrying her after all.”</p><p>Freddie held Karl a little tighter and sighed heavily.  Leave it to Karl to try and inject levity into something serious.  He rubbed his cheek over Karl’s thick hair.  He didn’t want to lose Karl, but he was willing to give up Karl if it was for the best.  “I love you,” Freddie whispered.  “I wish I could make you feel better.” </p><p>“I shouldn’t have….I should have just been friends with her.”</p><p>Turning over onto his side, Freddie kissed Karl’s forehead.  “You’ve been in love with her nearly your whole life, even when you tried not to be and even though she was a woman.   Being with you, I knew every day could be the last either because a bullet found its mark or orders sent you one way and me another.”</p><p>Karl realized he simply assumed he could live through anything.  Freddie just followed along, his faithful lover and carer.  “I’m going to take much better care of you from now on, Freddie.  I’ve been too cavalier toward you.”</p><p>Freddie appreciatively smiled, but he had already decided that his and Karl’s futures did not follow the same path.  Maybe they would someday, but not in the near future.  “You have to take care of Rosie’s kids until their father comes home, and I’m no sugar baby in need of some old man to provide for me like a mistress.  Even if flowers are a luxury, I know my way around the fruit and vegetable trade, too.”</p><p>Karl shook his head.  “Paul’s most likely dead.  I found Captain Raul Josef Beltzer on the African casualty lists.  It’s not certain, but there is no Raul Josef Beltzer in the German military, anywhere.  And, the <em>wehrnummer</em> almost match.  It’s too close not to be him.  It’s a horrible string of clerical errors.”</p><p>“If Herr Betzler had been listed as killed in action, would you have married her?”</p><p>Karl sighed.  He didn’t want to tell that truth.  “I don’t know.  If I had, I’d be just as dead as her.  I sure as hell wasn’t going to exercise any meaningful husbandly control over her.  The Admiral had to negotiate everything when she was a child.  She hadn’t softened with time.”</p><p>Freddie was taken aback.  “Rosie’s father was an admiral?”</p><p>Karl froze, realizing he’d let slip something possibly dangerous from the past.  “Yes, he was.”  Karl pushed himself up on his elbow.  “Freddie, I joined the Reichswehr because of my political activity not because I was gay.  I couldn’t get an exit visa, and this was the best place to hide.  In plain sight as it were because I was related to someone very important.  It’s why page five in my <em>soldbuch</em> was always blank.  If anything happened to me, the right people would tell my godfather, who was the only one left.  But, he died a few years ago.  M—”  Karl suddenly stopped speaking; his lips open but still.  He’d almost said, <em>My name isn’t even Klenzendorf</em>. </p><p>Freddie recognized that Karl had barely stopped himself from letting something big slip.  “I always wondered why a captain was a special-case officer.”</p><p>Karl’s head hung.  He wanted to tell Freddie everything.  “When this is all over, I’ll tell you everything.  I swear it.”</p><p>Freddie could see Karl about to pitch forward into the eddy that would lead to a weekend vacillating between high and comatose.  “Are you a Hohenzollern bastard?  Come on.  At least tell me that,” he cajoled.</p><p>Softly laughing, Karl shook his head.  “If I am, I’ll tell you once the war is over.”</p><p>“I mean, it’s not like you could pass on your title to me if we got married.”</p><p>Karl laughed harder.  “Married?  Two men married?  Wouldn’t that spin some heads?”  He put his arm around Freddie and stroked his silky hair.  “What would a Duke’s husband be called?  You can’t call him <em>Herzog </em>or<em> Herzogin</em>.”</p><p>“<em>Der Kleine Herzog</em>?”</p><p>Karl stifled a snort.  “Every man has one.”</p><p>Freddie blushed when he realized what the Little Duke was.  “How about <em>Herzogchen</em>?”</p><p>“That might work.”  Karl softly kissed Freddie.  Karl didn’t want sex with Freddie then and was somewhat relieved Tekla had taken care of that.  Karl did want someone to kiss and hold him, to make him feel safe and loved, like Rosie had.  He relaxed into Freddie’s arms hoping to get a decent night’s sleep there.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Monday, March 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dr. St. Johannes watched Karl more carefully at the command and staff meeting.  Usually the captain was skeptically bored.  Today, he wasn’t even paying attention.  He was pale and his sleep-deprived eyes were sunken in a drawn face.  He supposed the captain had seen so much horror and death that only the most shocking things affected him now.  Inquiries into who had been hanged horrified and disgusted the doctor.  A headmistress, university graduate, wife of a missing officer, and mother?  No, the doctor couldn’t stomach that.  Lock the woman up for a reasonable term, but hanging her?  The Reich needed every German it had, even the discontented ones. </p><p>Karl silently gathered his papers as he stood up from the table.   </p><p>“Captain Klenzendorf,” St. Johannes called.</p><p>“Sir?” Karl asked tiredly.</p><p>“I’d like to see you privately.”</p><p>“Yes, sir.”  Karl changed directions and walked to the head of the table.  “How can I assist you, sir?”</p><p>“In my office.”  St. Johannes opened a door and Karl followed.  “How are you feeling today, Captain?”</p><p>Karl sighed.  “I have to go back to the office and tell Sergeant Finkel his family home is 98% certain to have been destroyed last weekend, and he won’t hear from his family for months, if they survived.<a href="#_ftn1" id="_ftnref1" name="_ftnref1">[1]</a>  He and his mother have written each other every week since I’ve known him.”</p><p>The doctor gestured to an exam table.  “Hop up there, Captain.”</p><p>Karl was startled.  “You want to examine me?”</p><p>St Johannes snapped his fingers as he picked up his stethoscope and ophthalmic scope.  Karl rolled his eyes and took off his <em>feldbluse</em> and shirt.  He sat on the white sheeted table in his undershirt.</p><p>“When was the last time you saw a doctor?”</p><p>Karl sighed.  “January 1944, when I was released from convalescent duty.”</p><p>“How much did you weigh?”</p><p>“Sixty-five kilos.”</p><p>St. Johannes harrumphed.  “I doubt you weigh that now.  Looks like sixty to me.”  He listened to Karl’s lungs.  “How much do you smoke?”</p><p>“I have no idea, sir.  Too much.”</p><p>“Do you have heat?”</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p>“Probably the only reason you don’t have pneumonia.  Your lungs sound terrible.”  The doctor turned on his ophthalmic scope and shined it several times in Karl’s functioning eye.  The pupil was sluggish.  “I’m going to guess you’ve been using Pervitin to get through the day, barbiturate to sleep, and you’ve been drinking heavily to cope with Frau Betzler’s death.”</p><p>Karl was surprised the hospital commandant knew Rosie’s name.  “Yes, sir,” he admitted.</p><p>St. Johannes was looking at Karl’s blind eye.  “What happened to this eye?”  He reached for a magnifier. </p><p>“Hot metal from a grenade, sir.”</p><p>“Damn.  That is a terrible surgical scar.”  St Johannes was convinced the doctor who operated on Karl’s eye had no ophthalmologic training at all.  He turned off the little light and walked over to a cabinet where he took out a syringe and a small vial.  “You need to quit the drugs.  Primarily for your health and secondly because we’re running out.  Do you have a headache?”</p><p>“Your coat is vibrating purple.”</p><p>“I’ve told you before, Captain, the drugs make the migraines worse.”  He approached Karl with the needle.  “Just thank God you never got onto Eukodal.  Here.”  He grabbed Karl’s arm, wrapped an elastic on his bicep, expertly palpated, then inserted the needle into a vein.</p><p>“What are you—” Karl couldn’t finish his question before he felt the hit.  He smiled at the long forgotten feeling.  “I need to lay down.”  Karl felt himself go limp as two hands helped him lie down.</p><p>St. Johannes put the needle in a tray for autoclaving.  “You’ll be fine in a few minutes.  It’s just enough to make you forget your headache.  It’ll come roaring back unless you stay off everything but aspirin today.  Maybe have some krautertee.  Your liver could use the rest.”</p><p>Karl lay staring at the monochromatic kaleidoscope of the tracery ceiling.  He knew for fifteen or thirty minutes he just wouldn’t care about anything.  It was a relief.</p><p> </p><p>Magda and Aggy were sorting the tin soldiers when Karl walked into the office.  “Heil Hitler, Captain Klenzendorf,” the two girls said in unison.</p><p>Karl glanced over at them.  He smiled as best he could despite the dulled migraine.  “Heil Hitler, frauleins.”</p><p>Magda watched Karl go into his office and get ready for the day.  He picked up a mug of cold coffee and stood in the window, drinking the sludge.  Magda left her desk and leaned around the corner of Karl’s office.  “What are you looking for, Captain K?”</p><p>Karl blinked back tears.  “A valkyrie.”  He heard Freddie greet Gerti and Aggy and regretted what he had to do.  “Will you excuse me, Magda?”</p><p>Magda nodded and went back to her desk. </p><p>Karl shoved his hands in his pockets.  “Sergeant Finkle, can I talk with you?”</p><p>Freddie walked over with his normal morning smile.  “Yes, sir?”</p><p>Karl sighed.  He put his arm over Freddie’s shoulders and guided him over to the fainting couch.  Freddie’s smile faded as he was seated, and Karl sat down next to him.  “Last week’s air raids were concentrated on Dortmund.  I’m sorry to tell you, but nearly the entire city center was destroyed.”</p><p>Freddie gasped and began to shake.  His parent’s shop and home were near the old cemetery.  “My parents!”</p><p>Karl squeezed Freddie’s shoulders as tightly as he could.  “The Americans are moving that way.  There’s no telling when we might hear anything about casualties.”</p><p>Freddie doubled over crying.  He didn’t care what anyone saw or thought.  He suddenly grabbed Karl around the chest.  Karl slowly put his arms around Freddie and hugged him.  He held Freddie to him.  “We’ll get through it, Freddie.  We’ll get through it,” he repeated softly. </p><p>Magda happened to look over at them.  She saw nothing strange about Captain K hugging Herr Finkle tightly as he cried.  Captain K must have had to tell Finkie something awful because the captain looked like he was ready to cry himself.  Sometimes she’d see one of them just looking at the other, lost in a daydream.  Captain K and Herr Finkle were always laughing and smiling with each other just like she did with her friends.  All of her friends hugged her when her mother died.  Magda assumed Karl and Freddie were best friends, and best friends loved each other.  It wasn’t nearly as surprising as finding out that Captain K had been in love with Frau Betzler. </p><p> </p><p><a href="#_ftnref1" id="_ftn1" name="_ftn1">[1]</a> The evening of March 11-12, 1945, Dortmund was subjecting to one of the worst bombing raids of the war.  It was bombed by a record 1,110 aircraft and 5,000 tons of bombs.  The central city was almost completely destroyed with an estimated 6,300 deaths.</p>
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